Amid my list of blessings infinite, Stands this the foremost, "That my heart has bled."

Like birds, whose beauties languish half concealed, Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes Expanded, shine with azure, green and gold; How blessings brighten as they take their flight.

How blessings brighten as they take their flight.

Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.

Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.

For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme,
Nor take her tea without a strategem.